The Ohio Democrat. (Logan, O. [Ohio]) 1886-1906, 1887-01-29


open, one had only to lie down under
the shadow of rock and let the wind
blow.
"Theres no use going any furder,
boss" said Nick, as the Afternoon wore
OIL into stormy blackncss. and heavy
tloud-mists began to settle around
them. They had climbed into nc
region of rain-clouds, and the snowy
heights above were no longer visible
through the dense vapor which was
rapidly forming itself into ran-drops.
"Wcll, we might stop here for the
night" Henry admitted, reluctantly.
II guess we're in for ducking; but
fellows like you oughtn't to mind that"
Dave looked up sullenly at the black
prospect overhead. through which lurid
flashes of light had begun to dart.
They faced the awe-inspiring prospect
of an electric storm on mountain
top.
There's going to be the deuce to pay
here" he said, as the loud reverbera-
ton of thunder, which sounded terribly
near, rolled downward into the valley.
Henry started but was not dis
mayed.
"Lie down." he said, finging himself
down on the ground.
~ amt going to stay here, Nick de-
clared, holding on his hat, which
Tapped in the rising wind. "In half an
hour you won't be able to hold yer feet
here. We must 60 back, boss"
"Nonsense!'' Henry began; but at
that moment a huge bowlder. dislodged
by the wind, came rumbing down the
mountain side.
"Look out!' cried the guides. who
sprang aside Just in time. Henry
scrambled to his feet. but he lay half
across the path of the falling body. 1t
struck him on one side and flung him
several yards away, where he fell in
sensible. How long he lay there he
had no means of knowing; but when he
opened his eyes the dense gloom of u
starless night enveloped him. He was
soaking wet, for it had rained very
heavily. All around him he could hear
little streams gushing over the rocks,
and the rain was still falling gently,
though the storm was almost past.
Afar off he could see the sheets of white
lightning which had passed over, and
the wind was dying down into a soft
susurrus.
He was conscious of an acute pain
all through his body, though certain
confusion of his brain prevented his re-
alizing his exact condition. He
stretched out one hand and it fell Imply
over the sharp edge of rock. He was
, lying on u narrow ledge; how steep the
precipicc was beside him he could not
tell, and he dared not move to find out.
With weak effort he called the guides,
but the echo of his own voice was his
only answer. Again and again he
called, but had no reply. The darkness
and silence seemed to grow; and in a
semi-conscious way he began to realize
that they had left him there alone, to
die, if it so chanced, while they sought
safety for themselves. Henry Dwight
never found words in which to describe
the horror of the night on the mount
ain. He sank from one fainting fit
into another, would wake again with Il
sense of acute bodily agony, and saw
the morning light, at last, only after
! what seemed century of suffering.
! With considerable effort he raised
himself, and saw his sack lying some
distance away from him. 1t contained
his supply of food for the expedition.
He managed to secure the strap by
which he had slung it over his shoulder.
For week at least he might stay there
/ without starving to death; but as he
looked over the painless mountain side,
which was utterly unfamiliar to him, he
| despaired of ever being able to drag
himself out of that wilderness. He
could not walk, for one leg was broken
just above the ankle, and he suffered
from multitude of bruises. Hc pictured
himself dragging his suffering frame
over those trackless heights for days,
only to sink exhausted at last, and die
miserably in some wild beasts lair. He
, knew no one would come for him, fol
the guides would not betray their own
villainy, and for q week at least moth
ing would be thought of his non-ap-
) pearance. A week! 1t might then be
too late; and with what horror he
, thought of week spent in such agony
, as he then endured! 1t was thousand
, deaths in one. The sun had meantime
parted the dissipated clouds with his
morning rays, and a warm glow sue
ceeded the chilly wetness that had en-
veloped Henry. He bethought him OF
Louise's watch with hung around his
neck, and he took it out to look at the
time. 1t was half-past five. The mark
, ing of the hours seemed small thing
out there on the mountain side where
time appeared to him but one monstrous
, fact; but there, glancing in the sun
, beams, hung the little compass!
) "Thank Godr' murmured Henry,
pressing the little trinket to his lips, for
, the thought of Louise was indissolubly
( linked with his hope of deliverance. 1t
seemed to him like her finger which
7 pointed the way down the mountain,
where he dragged himself by long,
weary stages till he came in sight OF
, the deserted camp they had noticed the
, day before. He had been on the way
forty-eight hours, when he sank at last
in state of exhaustion under the rude
, shelter of ODonovan's Diggings. 1t
was n miserable hOyel. half lor-house